


intoxiqué

by adakias



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, M/M, Offonoff, cigarette, meanie, scrappy and bad lmao sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 14:23:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adakias/pseuds/adakias
Summary: inspired by offonoff’s “cigarette”





	intoxiqué

**Author's Note:**

> its 1:30 in the morning i should be sleeping

its dark.

the sun had set long ago, blanketing the land in a palpable darkness that concealed impurities highlighted by its glimmering rays.

a chorus of cicadas churn within the still quiet, their thighs kneading to orchestrate an ever present song. they do not waver. a dog barks somewhere far off, piercing the night. 

there is no ceiling but the sky.

smoke lifts from chapped lips, bleeding into the atmosphere, highlighted by an artificial chiaroscuro. 

moths buzz around a porch light. they swarm upon the familiarity, hungry. the pain of not getting close enough stings like tequila from the discarded glass.

a lighter clicks. a figure leans to catch the flame before it flees with a gusty breeze. before it escapes between reaching fingers like a sleek feline. 

alcohol. wonwoo uses it as a coping mechanism. 

this intoxication is unlike anything ever dressed before. not grief. not happiness. not disconnection.

not even sex.

its like kicking a dog; sharply regrettable and frowned upon. 

unfaithfulness.

but he wears it with pride. 

inhale.  
exhale.  
twirling puffs.

“it’s cold.”

eyes meet eyes. wonwoo’s unbothered, mingyu’s destroyed. contrasted.

“fuck right off.”

eloquent words previously used to encase mingyu in a candid rapture, languid against the imminent ruin, are unfiltered. 

wonwoo exhales again, this time stiffly measured to ensure control.

a dominance up for grabs in the late of night, dangling above tangled sheets and static tension relieved by sloppy kisses that taste like tropical fruit and nicotine. 

mingyu’s exploring fingers daunted with the task of mapping rainbow bruises of another’s design, of a lover’s disloyalty discolored in a masterpiece. crafted by lips of raspberries instead of mangoes.

promiscuity.

a flame lights at the twist of wonwoo’s finger, then is cupped by his angrily shaking hands as he lights another cigarette.

new bruises decorated by uneven grasps stand stark against wonwoo’s pale skin, mingyu’s attempt at reclaiming land taken by equally willing parties. there is no forgiveness. there won’t be. this is unforgivable. 

that was hasty love, attempting to forget heartbreak and relive memories. mingyu was rushing to preserve.

it did not work.

soonyoung’s name left wonwoo’s mouth like a cursed prayer.

guilty insults were thrown like daggers aimed at torsos. intended to kill, for wounds were already inflicted in the form of wonwoo’s bitten collarbones. 

no one fell. 

mingyu’s undefeated, pastel breath cascades into the chilly air.

mingyu approaches, creaking wood cold against the bare skin of his feet.

he plucks the cigarette from the grip of wonwoo’s immoral mouth that once only belonged to him, now marked by infidelity. 

wonwoo’s glare is narrow, directed at the eyes of what he previously would consider the love of his life.

mingyu places something hard on the table beside wonwoo’s half empty pack of menthols.

“you messed up.”

they share a goodbye kiss that lasts seconds, deep and heartfelt. however, mingyu is unwilling to excuse wonwoo of his irreversible wrongdoings.

this time, mingyu’s mouth is flavored like vodka, no longer sweet and soft. 

this time, wonwoo’s lips are flavored like perfidy and tequila, no longer constant and familiar. 

but he still tastes like tobacco.

and mingyu is addicted.

mingyu’s footsteps flee without shame to be free from a cage of lies. to race towards the nearest rehabilitation center.

wonwoo feels a sudden will to call out with a cracking voice, raspy from screaming and the flame of loss. to beg for forgiveness and understanding. for a second chance.

instead, there is only the cicadas.

wonwoo’s fingers brush something still warm from the clutching palm that held it dearly when reaching for more cigarettes. his perked gaze trails to the small, now rolling, object.

a flat vise slams gently down onto the cylinder as it nears the end of the table, preventing it from falling onto the deck.

once secured, wonwoo’s hand lifts.

mango chapstick.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter! 
> 
> @handsomechwe


End file.
